


The In-Between Spaces

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Character Study, Community: seans_50, M/M, Napoleonic Wars, Sharpe's Honour, Soldiers, Vignette, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-30
Updated: 2009-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best Harper could hope for was that he and Sharpe would fade into the in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The In-Between Spaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxRafer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/gifts).



> A fanciful little ficlet written for the [](http://seans-50.livejournal.com/profile)[**seans_50**](http://seans-50.livejournal.com/) [September Film Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/seans_50/98899.html) using _Sharpe's Honour_ as inspiration. Also written for [](http://foxrafer.livejournal.com/profile)[**foxrafer**](http://foxrafer.livejournal.com/), as an _extremely_ late Halloween treat I owe her for "knocking" on my [virtual!door](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/390087.html). D'oh!

  


_Ghosts._ Aye, they were ghosts, so they were, hugging the ground, hovering in the low places, ever mindful of their slow progress forward, of the need to cloak and be cloaked, to see and not be seen.

Even now, with Sharpe rightfully back at his side, hanging close by his shoulder, Harper still felt the shivery thrill at seeing him rise like a spectre from the woods, conjured by fire and ash, sleight of hand and Major Nairn.

"Don't come back," Nairn had said, after orders were dispatched, their identities taken, twisted and turned, and maybe that'd be what'd come from this fool's errand. Chasing the Marquesa's skirts could lead nowhere good, and the best Harper could hope for was that they'd slip away unscathed, unable to finish their mission, forced to melt into woods or bogs or dales, safe beyond the reach of Spaniard and Frog, County and King, company and camp follower.

It was a bit of a shame, all the same; Pat had been awfully fond of Ramona, and he'd be sad not to see her again.

But perhaps that was all he and Sharpe had to look forward to, all that they were now: wandering sidhe, lurking in the in-between spaces, taking turns sleeping by day, scouting by night, travelling only in dawn and in dusk. They were the mist, the fog; will-o'-the-wisps, spirits denied entrance to Heaven, hiding from Hell.

And like the sluagh they were, they'd be far beyond the reach of the living, creeping like clouds toward their destination, haunting the hollows, twined tightly together in fate and flesh.


End file.
